


Anywhere on this Road

by blakefancier



Series: Young Lovers [14]
Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard has nightmares and tries to cope with the growing pains of a long term relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is sort of growing out of control. Anyway, I'm already working on the second chapter of this story and I hope to finish it by mid-week. So you won't have long to wait.
> 
> Also, translation for the French is in the end notes.

Howard woke to the sound of Steve breathing. It was a dry, raspy sound, like he was trying to draw breath and failing, and it made the hair on Howard’s body stand on end.

“Steve,” he whispered into the darkness, but the only response was another rasp. He reached over to turn on the lamp, even though every part of him was screaming no. no, don’t. But he had to, he knew he did.

He turned on the light, blinking rapidly until his eyes adjusted, then, with a shaking hand, pulled back the covers.

No!

Howard opened his mouth to scream, but all he could manage was an agonized inhalation of breath.

It couldn’t be Steve, It couldn’t it couldn’t, it couldn’t. But it could, a traitorous part of his mind said, as he stared down at the boy, who was little more than paper-thin skin stretched over bone, eyes milky and listless, hair dull. A living, breathing skeleton.

“Steve,” he said, swallowing back bile.

Steve opened his mouth and Howard knew, he knew, he knew, oh, God, he didn’t want to hear. He didn’t! But Steve opened his mouth.

“Hungry,” Steve rasped in a broken, *needy* voice. “H-Howard, I’m so hungry. Please, Howard, *please.*”

*****

Howard woke to the sound of his own choked off gasp, his heart pounding in his chest, his face wet with sweat and tears. He reached out frantically, groping at Steve’s side of the bed, but it was empty. Of course it was empty, he thought as he turned on the light, and frantically wiped his face. A week after their fight and Steve was still mad at him.

Steve was fine. He would have heard otherwise. Sarah would tell him if Steve… Wouldn’t she?

He tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in his throat; it sounded like a sob.

Oh, to hell with it! He grabbed his phone and hit the speed dial.

“Pick up, Pick up, pick up, pick—“

“‘Lo?” Steve said, in a sleep-soft voice.

“It’s me.” He slumped back onto his pillows.

“Howard? It’s…It’s four in the morning. What— Are you okay? Is Tony okay?”

‘Fine, everyone’s fine.” His eyes stung and he rubbed them.

There was silence on the other end.

“Steve?”

“Why are you calling me at four in the morning?” There wasn’t any anger in his voice, just curiosity.

“I had a nightmare.” And, God, that sounded so stupid, but his voice was thick with emotion and his heart was still racing. “It felt so real and I wanted… I wanted to make sure you were all right. You’re all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” There was a slight pause, then, “Are you all right, Howard?”

No. He didn’t know.

“Are you coming over today?” he asked instead. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I got a few things to do after school, but I’ll be by around dinnertime.”

“Okay.” He strained to hear Steve breathe.

“I’m going back to bed, Howard.”

“I love you.”

Steve sighed and said, “I love you, too,” before ending the call.

He tossed his phone on the bed and scrubbed at his mouth. His hands were still shaking.

*****

Howard couldn’t concentrate. His nerves jittered and jangled and, God, he hadn’t felt this edgy since college. He spent most of the workday hassling R&D until Obadiah came down, pulled him aside, and told him to go the fuck home before one of his employees tried out a few weapons on him.

When he got home, he fried three circuit boards and an engine.

It was pathetic, *He* was pathetic, but he kept flashing on that damn dream and he just wanted to be sure Steve was all right.

He didn’t care. He just…He didn’t care that when Steve walked into the house, it felt like two tons of fucking issues was lifted off his shoulder because Steve looked good. Steve looked perfect.

Steve was perfect.

And he didn’t care if Steve was still mad at him. He just… he cupped Steve’s face and kissed him hard.

“I missed you,” he said, his voice trembling. “I missed you so goddamn much. Are you still pissed at me?”

“No,” Steve replied softly. “No, and I’m sorry I yelled at you. I know... I know you’re only trying to protect me because you love me.”

“Yes. Jesus, yes.” He slipped his hands under Steve’s shirt to feel the warmth of his skin and the hard planes of his chest. He felt giddy, drunk, and he laughed before swiping his tongue against Steve’s mouth. “I love you. Are you hungry?”

Steve laughed and nuzzled Howard’s mouth. “What’s with you trying to fatten me up? You got a new food kink or something?”

“Or something. Do you mind?”

“No.” Steve smiled and Howard kissed him again, quick and hard. “I could eat.”

*****

"We could do stuff with food," Steve said later, as they lounged in bed. "Maybe something with chocolate sauce or honey."

"I don't have a food kink." Howard stretched and Steve poked him in the chest.

"Are you saying you don't want to lick chocolate sauce off my stomach?"

"Babe, I'll lick whatever you want off your stomach. I'm just saying it's not my kink." Howard batted Steve's hand away, then turned and bit him on his right pec, just to hear his breath stutter out of him. "*That* is a kink."

"But…" Steve bit his lip. "You don't mind?"

He laughed, pushed Steve onto his back, and then straddled him. "Oh, Steve, we've moved way beyond that question. But, in case you need to hear it, I don't mind."

"Really?"

"Really." He leaned down and kissed Steve's nose. "There are things I don't ever want to do again, but you know about those. What about you? Have I done things that you've minded?"

"No." Steve wiggled his hips and Howard could feel him rising to the occasion. "Just… stopping. We could do more. I want to do more."

"All in due time. We have… plenty of time to explore." Years, he almost said years.

"Yeah." Steve looked thoughtful again, which was always trouble. "I want to ask you something."

"You can ask me anything," he said softly.

"You know so much about me. Practically everything." Steve ran his hands up and down Howard's thighs.

"And you want me to write my memoirs? Or maybe you want to read my diary?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "I want to shadow you at work."

"Really?" Howard said, surprised. "It's boring. I spend all day in meetings or doing paperwork."

"I don't care. I want to see what you do. I mean, it's your company. I know it's important to you."

"You're important to me." It was sickening, the words that were coming out of his mouth. "Your mom won't mind?"

"I'll tell her it's for a school project." Steve smiled at him. "Is that a yes?"

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'll set something up."

"Great! Are you up for another round?"

No, he wasn't. But that's what the handy dandy vibrator was for.

*****

Steve wore his Sunday best: a black suit that was too tight at the shoulders and shiny shoes that he obviously didn’t wear very often. In his hands were two coffees and a bag.

“I brought bagels,” Steve said, because of course he’d bring bagels. And coffee. Because he was ridiculous. He set a cup in front of Howard. “It’s a misto, I already put in the sugar. And the bagel place didn’t have any whole wheat left, so I got you a sesame seed instead.”

He even remembered the strawberry cream cheese.

“You didn’t have to—I could have had this delivered.” Not that he would have.

“I know.” Steve smiled and took a sip of his coffee. “Lorraine’s nice. Do you think she’ll want some cream cheese?”

“You bought her a bagel? What am I saying? Of course you bought her a bagel. Coffee, too, I bet.”

“It’s only polite.”

“Why don’t you ask her about the cream cheese? And let her know that I’m ready for the morning run through.”

“Okay.” Steve glanced at the closed door of his office, then pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.

Sometimes, he forgot how dangerous Steve could be, then the kid would kiss him like that, sweet and unassuming, and Howard’s brain would stutter to a complete stop.

Dangerous.

*****

Howard told Steve it was boring, and it was, purposefully. But Steve didn't seem to mind one bit, or if he did, he didn't show it.

In the midst of signing some paperwork, he looked up and Steve was watching him, smiling fondly.

"What?" he asked, giving Steve a puzzled look.

"Nothing. You just look very intense."

Howard snorted and wiggled his fingers to keep them from cramping. "Right. Are you sure you don't want me to find someone to give you a tour? This can't be fun."

"I'm all right. I like seeing this side of you." Steve leaned back in his chair and stretched.

"And what side is that?"

Steve shrugged. "I've seen the aviator, the inventor/engineer, the lover, and the father. And now I get to see the businessman."

"You're strange, you know that don't you?" But even as he said it, he flushed with pleasure.

"You love me anyway."

Oh, he did. It was frightening how much he did. He opened his mouth to say so, when the door flew open and Obadiah came into the room, brandishing a sheaf of paper.

"Have you seen this? Have you seen this bullshit that Roxxon is trying to pull?" Obadiah tossed the papers in front of Howard, then gave a slight double-take when he saw Steve.

"Hello to you, too, Obi." Howard picked up the papers—contracts—and flipped through them. "Oh, Obi, this is—"

"Steve, yes, I know. We've met a couple of times. How are ya, kid?"

Steve straightened in his seat, his expression bland. That was… weird. "I'm fine, thank you, sir."

"I didn't know Tony was here." Obi frowned.

"He's not. Steve's shadowing me for a class project."

"Oh? Are you enjoying yourself?" Obadiah leaned his hip against Howard's desk and smiled down at Steve.

"I'm having a very nice time, Mr. Stane."

"Steve, Steve, Steve, I told you, call me Obi." He moved to touch Steve's shoulder, but before he could Steve got to his feet and moved so that the chair was between them.

Wow, that was practically rude.

"I really wouldn’t be very comfortable with that, Mr. Stane." Steve turned to Howard. "Would you like me to step into the other room while you talk to Mr. Stane, Howard?"

Oh, no, there was no practically about it.

"No, no, that's fine." He looked at Obi. "I wouldn’t worry too much about this. Roxxon's just trying to play hardball. They just haven't realized they're outmatched. We'll get them where we want them."

"I hope you're right."

Howard smirked at him. "Have I ever been wrong?"

Obi laughed. "Rarely. Want to get a drink after work?"

"Can't. I've got to make sure this one gets home all right." He gestured to Steve. "I promised Tony I'd take care of him."

"Ail right. We'll talk later. Goodbye, Steve."

"Sir." Steve kept his distance until Obi left the room, then he flopped back into his chair.

"Wow. That was… I don’t think I've ever seen you be rude before."

"I wasn't rude!"

"Oh, you were rude. You were so very, very rude." Howard laughed and leaned back in his chair. "So you don't like Obi, huh?"

Steve shrugged and rubbed his fingers against the top of Howard's desk.

"Why not?" he asked, because, really, except for their competitors and four ex-wives, everyone liked Obi.

Steve bit his lower lip and looked thoughtful. "He's a liar."

"Steve, he's in business. Of course he's a liar. *I'm* a liar."

"Not to your friends, not to the people you love." Steve looked at him. "He's not nice."

"Did he…" Howard narrowed his eyes. "Did he do something to you?"

"No! No, he just… He pretends to be nice, but he… He's not." Steve let out a huff of frustration. "I'm not explaining it right. Tony says he cheats on his wives."

"Steve," he said gently, "I cheated on Maria. A lot."

"I know." Steve looked out the window and tilted his head.

“And that’s it?” Howard asked hesitantly. “He cheats on his wives and is a liar? That’s why you don’t like him?”

Steve nodded slowly, but didn’t look at Howard.

“Obi’s a good friend and… a business partner, but if he did something that made you uncomfortable, you could tell me. I…” For a moment, he couldn’t speak. He swallowed hard. “I’d believe you.”

“What?” Steve looked at him and frowned. “What are you—Oh! Oh, no! Howard, no. He never—“ He wrinkled his nose. “Mr. Stane never— I’d tell you if he, you know. He’s just creepy.”

“If you’re sure, Steve.”

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. Then he looked out the window again. "Do you ever try to spy on people from up here? You know, with binoculars or a telescope?"

As changes in subject went, it was inelegant, but if Steve didn’t want to talk about it, he’d table it. For now. "No, I can't say that I have."

There was an awkward pause; Howard shuffled the papers in front of him and cleared his throat. Thank goodness for Lorraine. She popped her head in and informed him that Fujikawa was on the line for their ten-thirty call.

Afterward, he yelled at R&D via video-conference over their latest blunder, then took a last minute meeting with Colonel What’s-his-face, who just happened to be in the neighborhood. Which was bullshit, but Howard was kind enough not to call him on it.

Then, thank God, it was lunchtime.

He had Lorraine pick up some sandwiches from the shop across the street and they ate at his desk.

“I didn’t know that you could speak Japanese,” said Steve, who had finished his lunch and was stealing Howard’s chips.

“Just enough to get me into trouble.” He smacked Steve’s hand away. “Here, have my pickle instead.”

Steve snickered at that, but took it. “Is that the only foreign language you know?”

“I know a bit of Spanish and Italian, and I’m fluent in French thanks to a very lovely boarding school in Switzerland.” Howard slid half is sandwich towards Steve.

“Oh, I know French, too.” Steve shrugged “Well, I mean, I took two years at school.”

“Really?” Howard tilted his head and smiled. “Je t'aime. Et si j'avais le temps je te coucherais sur mon bureau et je te baiserais.”

Steve blinked, then a slow flush crept over his face and he glanced down at the desk. “Oh. Um. Yeah. That… I’d like that.”

*****

“So why do we have to drive out of the city in order to meet your Brain Trust, again?” Steve asked, leaning against him as they sat in the back of the town car.

“Liability. They’ve destroyed three labs in the past five years. That sort of thing makes people nervous.” Howard frowned at the screen of his smartphone and logged into his email.

“Is it safe for us to visit them?”

Howard smiled. “Perfectly safe. Relax.”

Steve hummed softly and laid his head on Howard’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll mention this part to my mom. She almost wouldn’t let me come.”

“I’m not surprised.” Howard pressed a kiss to Steve’s hair.

“The lawyers freaked her out. She said she felt like she was signing away our souls.”

He felt a slight twinge of guilt. “Yeah, sorry about that. I know you’re trustworthy, but It’s standard policy.”

“It’s fine.” Steve looked up at him and smiled. “If I was gonna sell my soul to anyone, it’d be you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m in the market for fresh souls.”

Steve chuckled and pressed warm lips against his jaw. “I might even give you a discount.”

“Discounted souls? My favorite.” He rubbed his cheek against Steve’s hair and closed his eyes. “God, you smell good.”

“You mean like soap and shampoo?”

“Yes,” he laughed, “exactly.”

They stayed like that, just like that, despite his phone’s insistent beeping, until the car stopped in front of the lab building.

The moved quickly through security because, well, he was the boss. He could admit, his pulse quickened, just a bit, as they entered the lab. God, his fingers itched to pick up a wrench or a screwdriver and get to work.

“Howard? Were we expecting you today?” A young man, Gerry, came forward, a little frown on his face.

“Yes,” he said. “My office should have sent a memo.”

“Ah.” Gerry looked guiltily at a desk covered in piles of paper. Then he blinked and stared at Steve. “New recruit?”

“No. Dr. Gerry Ellard, this is Steve Rogers. He’s a friend of Tony’s.”

“Nice to meet you.” He shook Steve’s hand. “What year are you at MIT?”

“Oh, um, I don’t go to MIT. I… I’m still in high school.”

“Steve’s following me around today and I thought I’d show off a bit by introducing him to my best and brightest. So dazzle us, Gerry.”

Gerry grinned slowly. “I’m sure we can manage that.”

Boy, did they.

*****

"They're beautiful," Steve said, peering into the tank, a slight smile on his face. "But… what do jellyfish have to do with what you do here? Do you experiment on them?"

"They're not jellyfish." Gerry reached into the tank and pulled out a bright orange specimen and held it in his cupped hands; it vibrated slightly. "It's a machine."

"A machine? But… but it looks so real." Steve reached out and lightly brushed a finger against the aboral surface. "It feels real."

Howard smiled and gently rested a hand on the small of Steve's back. "Who says science has to be cold and boring?"

"But why?"

Howard laughed and Gerry joined him. "The real question, babe, is why not?"

Gerry put it back in the water. "We're having some problems with rusting of the central core, but we think we should have a solution for that in a few months. Now, if you really care about the why, then you should see what Britta is working on. Her lab's in the next room."

They follow Gerry into the room where several metallic limbs are being tested.

"Wow! They move so naturally. Are you building robots?"

Britta, who'd been crouching behind some machinery, popped up and snorted. There was a smear of grease on her cheek. "Robots are passé. No, these artificial limbs will be used for medical purposes. Like for soldiers who may have lost a leg or arm in battle."

"Hello, Britta," Howard said.

"I was wondering when you'd show up, Howard. It's been awhile."

"I always turn up. Eventually."

"Just like a bad penny." She grinned at Howard, then held out her hand to Steve. "Dr. Britta Montoya."

Steve shook her hand. "Steve Rogers, ma'am."

She made a face. "Call me Britta. You wanna help me test these babies out?"

"Can I?" He looked at Howard, a hopeful look on his face.

"It's her project."

Steve turned to her eagerly. "Yes, please!"

"Take off your jacket and your tie." She grabbed one of the controllers. "It's just like a Wii."

*****

"You're awfully quiet," Howard said later, as they were driven back to the city.

Steve who had been looking out the window, turned toward Howard. "I'm just thinking."

"Did you have a nice time today?"

Steve smiled and took Howard's hand. "I did. I had a great time. Thank you. I know… I know this has been a real inconvenience for you."

He brought Steve's hand to his mouth and kissed it. "You could never be an inconvenience."

"You're the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and you just rearranged your whole workday for me. You're a big fat liar."

"Hey, I told you I was." He laughed and kissed Steve's mouth.

"You did, you did." Steve sighed and wiggled closer. "Can I ask you a question?"

"What, another one?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Do you… Does it bother you that people think you're… you're using me?"

"Do I… What?" He frowned. "Where did that come from?"

"I don't know. I guess I was just thinking about people's reactions when they find out about us. Does it bother you that people think you're taking advantage of me? That you're always the bad guy and I'm the… the victim?"

"I don't know. I guess, sometimes." Howard shook his head. "But I don’t blame you for that. I am a lot older than you are."'

"Yeah." Steve looked down at his hands. "Do you think that'll change when we… when we come out?"

"Maybe. You're young and… not well off and I'm rich. I suppose people will think you're with me for the money." Howard tensed slightly as a thought came to him. "Someone said something to you, didn't they?" And he's outraged at that, he didn't think he would be, but he was.

"No," Steve said quickly.

"Now who's being a big fat liar?"

"No one said anything to me, Howard. I swear no one said anything to me at all! They were just looking at us, at you and at me and… smirking. That's all."

"Smirking?" He narrowed his eyes at Steve, who nodded. "I still stay you're lying to me."

"I'm not. Scout's honor." Then Steve smiled at him. "We've got about fifteen minutes and I brought a condom with me. Want a blow job?"

Howard knew he should demand the truth from Steve, but the fact of the matter was, that he was a weak man. A very weak man.

*****

The nightmares were getting more frequent and complex. Every time he woke, frightened and sobbing, he'd want to call Steve.

He didn't. Not every time. But it was an issue. He knew that Steve was worried about him.

*****

Howard watched as the SHIELD scientists ran the boys thorough their tests, checking for mental agility, rather than physical this time. They were both doing well and he couldn’t help but feel a little proud of them both for the way they were holding up.

Steve grinned at him from across the room and he was just about to smile back when an agent walked over and cleared her throat.

"Yeah?" he said.

"Director Fury would like to see you, sir." She was a pretty little redhead with blue eyes the exact color of Steve's. She touched his arm and gave him a look that said she'd knock his ass out and carry him if he made a fuss. He had no doubt that she could do it, too.

"All right." Howard gestured to Steve to let him know he was stepping out for a bit. Steve nodded and flashed him another smile.

The room he was brought to was bare, except for Nick and a large tv screen that showed the boys being tested.

"That's little creepy, Nick." He stood next to Nick and they watched for a momentt.

"You look a little tired, Howard. Everything okay?" Nick didn't look at him, didn't even twitch, but Howard wasn't fooled.

"I'm fine," he said in a voice that brooked no argument.

"We've got psychologists on payroll—"

"I know." Howard thought it was a good idea, the boys were going through a lot and the needed to talk to someone, but he wasn’t sure he trusted SHIELD psychologists.

"Steve tells me you've been having nightmares."

Howard blinked as those words sunk in. "I'm sorry… what?"

Nick turned to him. "Steve's worried about you."

"He's worried about me? He's—" Howard balled his hands into fists and glared at Nick. "When the hell do you two have time for heart to hearts?"

"He didn't tell you?" Nick looked thoughtful. "The kid texts me, emails me. Hell, friended me on Facebook."

"He… He…" Howard sputtered and rubbed his temples. "Oh my God! Oh my God, this is what a brain aneurysm feels like. You're conversing with him? You—I told you to stay away from him! From both of them!"

"And I was," Nick said easily. "But he came to me."

"He… Steve came to you? Steve— That is no excuse! He's…" Howard gritted his teeth because Nick was just staring at him, an eyebrow raised, and wasn't that what other people said about the relationship between him and Steve.

"Steve came to me."

Howard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You have to stop."

"No."

"No? Just like that?" He was trembling. There was no way his fist would connect if he took a swing at Nick.

"Yeah, just like that. The kid knows his mind, Howard. He knows what he wants and he's not going to let you or me or anybody stand in the way of that." Nick's mouth curves into a tiny smile.

"You like him!" And he didn't mean to sound so accusatory, but Nick didn't like a lot of people.

Nick's smile broadens. "What's not to like? He's a gorgeous blond haired, blue-eyed white boy who loves mom, apple pie, and America. No wonder you're fucking him, Howard. I'm straight and the kid gives *me* a hard on."

He gave Nick a dirty look and turned back to the screen. The boys were on a break and Steve was talking animatedly to Isaiah, who was laughing.

"You want to talk to a psychologist, you let me know. Agent Greer will take you back to the lab."

Howard didn't say anything the rest of the visit and Steve kept shooting him concerned looks. He waited until they got back to the mansion before pulling Steve into the den.

"You're talking to Fury about me?" he said, his voice trembling with anger. "You're talking to Nick Fury *period?*"

"Oh." Steve swallowed hard. "That's why you…"

"How dare you. How *dare* you!" He poked Steve in the chest with his finger, his voice rising. "You had no right to talk to Nick about me."

"I was worried!"

"What?" He felt something dark and ugly swell in his chest. "You think just because we're *fucking*--"

"No!" And now Steve was trembling. "I think I have a right because I love you. I love you and you're falling apart right before my eyes! And I didn’t know who else to talk to!"

"You—" But the rest of the words got caught in his throat. Steve looked at him, pale and… and…

"I'm scared. Howard, I'm scared. And I don’t have anyone to talk to about this, about us." Steve rubbed a hand across his eyes. "You sound so broken when you call me. And you won't talk about it. Mom and Tony, they don’t listen when I talk about you. And… I'm worried about you. Nick listens. He listens and he doesn’t judge you or look at me like I'm just a stupid kid who doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Fuck, Steve." He put his arms around Steve and pulled him close. He never thought about it, never considered that Steve might need someone to talk about this relationship. Someone who *wasn't* Howard. "Babe, I've been an idiot."

Steve sniffled. "Just a little."

Howard laughed and slowly rubbed his back. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm worrying you. But these nightmares, they'll pass. I just need some time."

"Can you tell me about them?" Steve pressed a kiss to his neck.

"No. No, they're… They're ugly. I don't… I don't want to talk about them with anyone." God, talking about them would make it worse, he knew it would.

"They're about me, though, aren't they?"

"Yeah." Howard concentrated on the feel of Steve's warm body, the even inhalation and exhalation of his breath.

"Would it help if I was there when you woke up from your nightmares?"

"Maybe," he confessed.

"My mom works tonight and, you know, a couple of months ago I got a double bed. The twin was getting too small. You could stay the night."

Howard sighed; Steve had been trying for most of their relationship to get Howard to stay the night at his place. "I'm going to regret this."

"It'll be great. I'll even take off the Batman sheets." When he groaned, Steve laughed. "I'm kidding. I prefer Superman."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard stays over at Steve's place. It could be worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I'm finished with this bit. Now I can concentrate on the next story in the "For your Entertainment" series. Poor sub!Howard has been kneeling and come-splattered long enough.

Howard knew he was being ridiculous. There was no reason why the idea of staying at Steve's place should make him feel so anxious. But it did. 

He knocked on Steve's door, travel bag in hand, and cast furtive glances around him. God, he should go home. He should go home and…

The door opened and Steve smiled. He grabbed Howard by the lapel and tugged him inside. "You're here."

"Hi," he said, closing the door behind him.

Steve laughed, pushed him up against the door, and kissed him, slow and sweet, warm tongue coaxing his mouth open. He could feel the rasp of Steve's stubble against his skin and he moaned. He dropped his bag, wrapped his arms around Steve's body, and deepened the kiss. 

"Mmm." Steve pushed away from him, lips red and swollen. "Hi to you, too. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. You can put your bag in the bedroom.

"Yeah, okay." He rubbed a thumb along Steve's jaw; he didn’t know why, but the stubble made something hot twist inside of him. 

"Go on. We're having spaghetti and meatballs." 

He was tempted to say something obscene, just to make Steve laugh, but instead he grabbed his bag and headed for the bedroom. He pushed open the door to Steve's room and looked around. It was different from the last time, and not just because of the bigger bed—and God, it was still such a tiny bed. The action figures were gone, and so were the superhero posters. 

Speaking of which… Howard flipped back the comforter and let out a sigh of relief: blue cotton sheets, not a Superman in sight. He tossed his bag on the bed and closed his eyes.

He was out of his element here, off-balance, and fuck if he didn't hate that.

"Are you okay?"

Howard took a deep breath and opened his eyes; Steve was leaning against the doorjamb, looking worried. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay."

"I'm glad you're here." 

And Steve was, God help him. "So am I."

"Liar," Steve said softly, and Howard could hear the slight hurt in his voice.

"Hey." He walked over to Steve and cupped his face. "I am *always* happy to be with you. *Always.* You got that?"

"I got it." 

"Good." Howard kissed him, then wrapped an arm around his waist. "So spaghetti and meatballs, huh?"

"Yeah. The sauce is from a jar, but I made the meatballs myself." 

"Sounds great." 

And it tasted pretty good, too. Howard was not surprised, and even if he had been, he wouldn’t have let Steve see it. 

"So how's everything for Stark Expo going?" Steve asked, already on his second helping of spaghetti.

"It's… busy. Very, very busy. But we've almost got everything set for mid-July. Although," Howard said and rolled his eyes, "everyone keeps bugging me about hiring a PA." 

"You've never needed one before." 

"That's what I said. But everyone keeps pointing out that this is the first Stark Expo since 1974 and… I don't know, maybe I'm crazy for trying to start it up again." He wiped his mouth with a napkin and sighed.

"No, no, it's a great idea! Howard, *everyone* is talking about it. Even the kids at school are excited." Steve blushed. "Everyone keeps asking me if I can sneak them in backstage. You know, because I know Tony." 

Howard rolled his eyes. "Fantastic." 

"I'm excited, too," Steve offered, looking a little sheepish. "You are going to let me in backstage, aren't you?"

"Well, I guess there has to be some perks to sleeping with the CEO of Stark Industries." 

Steve nodded gravely. "I think so too. I mean, the sex is okay…"

"Okay!"

Steve snickered, then looked at him fondly. "Fantastic, then. Amazing. I hear a choir of angels every time."

"That's more like it." He speared a meatball with his fork and bit into it savagely, which only made Steve laugh again.

"So what would your PA even do?"

Howard shrugged. "Whatever I need: run errands, answer my cell phone, organize my social calendar—hey, no eye rolling—make sure I'm on schedule, and keep my coffee cup full."

"Hmm. Sounds like a lot of work." Steve took a sip of his milk.

"It is." He cleared his throat. "And I've been told that I can be… difficult to work for." 

Steve snorted "Yeah, that's an understatement. I've seen Mr. Jarvis give you a dirty look or two and he's the most proper person I've ever met."

"I know what I want. Why shouldn't I get it?" Howard finished his spaghetti.

"You are *so* spoiled. Want some more?"

"No, I'm done. And I'm not spoiled. I'm too old to be spoiled." And just to show Steve that he wasn't, he took his dirty dishes into the kitchen. 

Steve followed Howard with his own dishes. "Wanna help me wash up?"

Of course he didn't. "All right."

"First things first," Steve said in an amused tone. "Off with the tie and jacket. I don't know why you always wear a suit. Always, even when you're working in your workshop."

"I like suits." He slipped out of his jacket and pulled off his tie.

"I want to see you in jeans and sneakers." Steve reached over and slowly unbuttoned Howard's dress shirt and slid it off him so that he was only wearing a t-shirt. "Better."

"Says you." 

"Mmm." Steve tossed Howard's clothes on a clean counter, then tossed him a sponge. "You wash, I'll rinse." 

Howard had never washed a dish in his life, but it wasn't horrible. It wasn't fun, he wouldn’t compare it to taking apart an engine or flying a plane, but it wasn't worse than frying a circuit board you'd spent all day working on either. It was tedious and messy, but afterward Steve cupped his face with wet hands and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

"Thank you," Steve said, wiggling against him.

"No problem." Howard leaned in and nipped at Steve's bottom lip, which made him gasp, then smile.

"Come on. I want… Not here." Steve grabbed Howard by his belt and tugged him out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom.

God, Steve was gorgeous when he was aroused: face flushed, body tense, and his mouth red and swollen. Howard wanted to do dirty things to him: tie him up, hear him beg, leave tiny, mouth sized bruises all over his body.

Howard wanted to do other things to Steve, too. Things he never thought about doing with other people. Things that made him feel a little sick and a lot excited, Things he knew that Steve would let him do, would want him to do. 

But Steve was too young.

He lunged forward, pressing a hard kiss into Steve's mouth. "I love you." 

Steve smiled and pulled on his belt, leading him… past the bedroom.

"What—" 

"Shh!" Steve opened another door, yanked him into the room, and shoved him at the bed.

He sprawled back against a rose-patterned blanket and… "Oh, no! We are not fucking on your mother's bed!" 

Steve straddled Howard's waist and pulled off his t-shirt. "Of course not, Howard. Don't be disgusting. We can still make out though, right?" Then he leaned down and licked Howard's mouth, his hips rolling.

And, fuck, how was he supposed to say no to a half naked Steve rubbing against him like there was no tomorrow? "Tony doesn't do this, does he?" 

"No," Steve said, pulling Howard's t-shirt out of his pants, and shoving it up to lick at his chest. "Not anymore. Says our love has killed the excitement for him."

Howard let out a huff of annoyance and rolled them over so that Steve was on his back. Then he kissed Steve, hard and insistent, until they were both panting and Steve was flushed all the way down to the waistband of his jeans. And, damn, oh, damn. Howard licked a path down Steve's torso, following the flush of skin, Steve's fingers gripping his hair.

Steve was hard, so hard, and Howard mouthed him through the fabric just to hear the hitch of his breath and the tiny whines he made in the back of this throat.

"Please! Oh, Howard, please." Steve tugged at his hair and writhed. "Suck me, Please, please, please, I want your mouth." 

"You're such a slut," Howard said and watched as Steve's flush deepened, listened to the soft keen of his voice.

"Yeah, oh, yeah. Your slut. I'm…" Steve swallowed hard. "I'm your slut. You can do anything to me. Howard, anything!" 

And Steve meant it. Howard knew that he meant it. "That's right, babe, beg."

"Please," he whined, his voice breaking on the word. "Please suck my cock! It hurts, Howard, it hurts!"

"Fuck!" Howard couldn't… His hands trembled as he undid Steve's jeans and— "When the hell did you start wearing briefs?" Powder blue briefs. 

"Th-thought you might like them." Steve tugged at his hair.

"I do. Oh, I do." He ran his hand along the soft, damp, cotton, then wrestled with Steve's jeans to get them down around his knees. He rubbed Steve through the briefs, until he was sure Steve was going to yank his hair out, then pulled them down too.

And, God, he had planned on teasing Steve. But suddenly his mouth was watering and all he wanted was that gorgeous cock in his mouth. He swallowed, gripped Steve's hips, tight, so tight he knew he'd leave bruises, then bit a mark on Steve's thigh.

"Howard," Steve sobbed, hips jerking up, the tip of his cock wet and sticky.

"I love you," he said and swallowed Steve down. He didn't have the patience for finesse, for anything but fucking his mouth with Steve's cock and sucking hard. It was messy, dirty, and it was so fucking sexy he could probably come like this if he let himself. 

Not that he was. He was going to fuck Steve tonight. Fuck Steve so hard, right into the mattress. Make Steve hurt. Make Steve cry. 

Fuck! He sucked hard, nails digging into Steve's hip, not hard enough to break skin, but enough, yeah, enough that Steve bucked and wailed. Came. 

He swallowed and sucked until Steve softened in his mouth, then he slid up and they kissed, wet and messy. 

"Good?" he asked.

"Yeah." Steve's voice slurred and he grinned up at Howard. "What about you?"

"I'm saving it for later. Some of us aren't sixteen anymore." He pulled up Steve's underwear and jeans.

"There are pills for that now, you know." 

"Shut your face." He kissed Steve on the nose and stretched out on the bed. The ceiling needed to be painted. "Howard Stark doesn't need pharmaceuticals to keep his boy toy happy."

"Howard Stark probably shouldn't refer to himself in the third person. It's kind of creepy." Steve cuddled up against him. "And you're right, he doesn't. I am a very happy boy toy." 

Howard buried his fingers in Steve's hair and looked around the room, trying to ignore the insistenence of his erection. He glanced at the nightstand and, oh. He picked up the picture frame. "Is this your father?"

"Yeah." Steve smiled fondly and touched the glass of the frame.

"You look like him." And he wasn’t just saying that either. Steve was the spitting image of his old man. 

"That's what Mom says."

"He died when you were just a kid, right?" He rubbed Steve's scalp.

"Yeah, I was two." Steve tensed slightly. "He killed himself."

"I thought it was a car accident," he said softly.

"That's the story Mom tells everyone. But it was suicide. I heard her talking to Mrs. Appleby, our neighbor, once. She said he was always starting fights with dangerous people. It was a matter of time." Steve shuddered and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry." He pressed a kiss to Steve's hair. "Do you remember much about him?"

"No. I don't… I have one memory, just one, and I… I wish I didn't have it." Steve sighed and hugged him. "My dad and mom, they were high school sweethearts. After they graduated, Mom went to nursing school and Dad joined the Army. He fought in the first Gulf war. When he came back, it was tough, I guess. He started drinking. He was a drunk."

"Steve, you don't have to tell me this."

"I know. I want to. I only have one memory of him. I was hiding, I don’t know where, but I could see him and my mom. And he was screaming, he was screaming at her; horrible things, terrible things. And my mom, she just, she was crying and she kept saying, 'Shut up, you're drunk. You're gonna wake Stevie.'" 

Howard set the picture frame back on the nightstand and hugged Steve. "Babe."

"Isn't that horrible? The only memory of my dad is… is that one." Steve rubbed his eyes and looked at Howard. "Do you have good memories of your dad?"

"My father's not dead."

"I know, but Tony says he has dementia. And you never talk about him or your mom." Steve rested his head on Howard's shoulder. "And I know he… he was…"

"Yeah, yeah, of course I do." For a moment, Howard's chest felt too tight, but he breathed through it. "The drinking didn't get bad until I was older, but even then… When I was real little, he used to take me down to the workshop with him. And he'd sit me on his lap and we'd work on circuit boards together."

Steve smiled. "That sounds like fun."

"It was." He laughed. "Although, I probably ruined more circuit boards than anything else. And then, when I was fourteen, we rebuilt a car together. So, yeah, I have good memories, too."

"I'm glad." Steve kissed his neck.

"So am I." Howard was a little surprised to realize that he wasn't lying either. "Come on, let's get out of here. Let's watch a movie."

"The Maltese Falcon?" Steve asked hopefully.

"Oh, why not." 

*****

Howard woke to crying, his own crying, and Steve, arms around him, murmuring softly.

"It's all right, Howard. It's okay. I'm here and I'm safe. Everything's all right." Steve gently rubbed his back and pressed soft kisses to his mouth.

He tried to pull himself together, but the horror stayed with him, cold and hard in the pit of his stomach. He buried his face against Steve's chest. "Don't die. Steve, don't die. Please, please, don’t die."

"I won't. I promise I won't." Steve hugged him hard and, God, he couldn't, he just couldn't.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Steve, I'm so sorry. I can't… I just… I can't." Steve was safe, but for how long? How long before the serum turned poisonous? How long before Steve—

"Let it out. Just let it out. I've got you. I'm right here and I have you, Howard. I'm never gonna let you go. I promise."

He shouldn't, he knew he shouldn't. But he was so tired. Too tired. And so he let himself go. He just… he let himself mourn.

*****

The next time Howard woke up, it was to the smell of bacon and coffee. He opened his eyes and groaned, there was too much light in this room. He buried his face into the pillows, wondering if he could get a few more hours in before having to get up.

Unfortunately, that became impossible when the door opened. 

"You awake?" Steve whispered.

Howard groaned and lifted his head. "No." 

Steve smiled and sat on the bed. "You look awake to me."

"No." Howard sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Time?"

"Ten-thirty."

"Ten-thirty! Fuck!" He tried to get out of bed, but Steve put a hand on his back and pushed.

"It's okay, you're fine. You were just going to work down in your shop this morning, remember?" Steve leaned over and kissed his shoulder.

"Your mom," he said, after a moment. And, God, wasn't he fucking incoherent this morning.

"Is already home. She knows you’re here and it's okay. She's making pancakes." Steve smiled and stroked his hair. "How do you feel?"

How did he feel? "Like an idiot. Dammit, Steve, I didn't… I didn't mean to break down all over you last night." 

"I'm glad you did. That's why you were here, remember?"

"To cry all over you?" he said.

"If you needed it." Steve tugged on his hair. "You needed the reassurance. You needed the sleep. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Howard sat up. "There are some things I can't talk about. I just can't. So don't push."

"Okay," Steve said softly. "No pushing." 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome." Steve leaned in and kissed him, warm and gentle, before standing and heading to the door. "Breakfast is in ten minutes. And no, you can't sneak away."

Ten minutes? How the hell was he supposed to get ready in ten minutes? 

Oh, fuck it!

He pulled on his pajamas, ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times, and headed to the kitchen. Sarah and Steve were already sitting at the table.

He mumbled a hello and flopped onto a chair.

"You look like hell," Sarah said.

"Thanks. I feel like hell." He rubbed his eyes and smiled at Steve, who fixed him a plate.

He let the conversation wash over him, warm and easy, with a fondness he wasn’t quite used to. Mornings with Tony were always fraught with sharp words and seeds of past hurts that would grow into arguments with the slightest provocation. 

"The microwave is still broken," Steve said around a mouthful of pancake and Sarah sighed.

"I'll give Mr. Martin another call."

"This is the third time." Steve was frowning and Howard could see why. Sarah looked like hell, too. "We need a new one."

"I know, but we can't—" She glanced at Howard and pressed her lips together. They couldn't afford one.

Howard took a sip of his coffee and kept a neutral expression. "Do you have tools? I could look at it, if you want."

"You?" Sarah gave him a skeptical look.

"I built my first engine at thirteen, my first bomb at seventeen, and despite being filthy rich, I still do my own car maintenance."

"And he's got a degree in mechanical engineering," Steve said.

"Exactly. Microwaves are a piece of cake." He cleared his throat. "Let me do this."

She stared at him for a few moments, then gave a sharp nod. "Okay. Okay, fine. I'll pull the tools out after breakfast."

Steve beamed at them, obviously pleased. Sarah rolled her eyes and Howard let out a huff of amusement.

This was absolutely ridiculous. So why did he feel like laughing?

**Author's Note:**

> French: Je t'aime. Et si j'avais le temps je te coucherais sur mon bureau et je te baiserais.  
> English translation: I love you. And if I had the time, I would stretch you out on my desk and fuck you.


End file.
